In Sex Veritas

I wasn’t a fucking murderer. And though I needed money, dirty cash from a literal child abuser was not going to solve that problem. Both morally and because then I’d have to come up with an explanation for how I had the money and clean it.

When she came out, I gave her an impromptu lesson in ‘sexual interrogation’ which would make her know about her new skills, just cast as something anyone properly trained could do. That got me no SP, because she didn’t believe me, but she planned to try it on someone later today. And I got +3 SP (Kat +91) at a random point that evening as she accepted what I’d told her was true.

Okay, that problem was under control, but Frannie definitely wasn’t. I went back over everything. Besides Muscles on my Muscles, there was also MIDF: Women older than you are likely to believe that anything you do which upsets them is an innocent mistake born of youth and simply correct you, rather than, say, scream, punch you, fire you or call the cops. Effect is doubled for mothers and tripled for pregnant women.

Shit…in retrospect that obviously was why Francine had taken to me so strongly. And her notion of correction was ****. But it also might explain why she’d let me go so easily earlier. But…wait, Kat was now loyal to me, I might be able to get her to get me ****, but also…her new skill offered a possibility. If she could interrogate Francine and get the **** location, then I’d own the bitch.

And I’d already set it up a bit…but the problem was that if Francine could connect me to Kat, then so could Penguin’s organization. I’d see what they already knew. I wished I could talk to someone else about all this…figure it out. I hated Bridgette, but having someone to bounce ideas off of helped. A lot. And Diamond had been crucial for Kat's little switch.

Diamond…I’d already put her in too much danger. Kianna…this wasn’t her thing. Kat…I didn’t trust her. Soon she wouldn’t be able to disobey me at all, but until then…this was something I couldn’t trust her with. Asa..what are you kidding? Maybe I could use my slightly increased popularity with the inmates to arrange an accident? But I doubted it.

Also, I wasn’t a fucking murderer. And I wanted that bitch on her knees in front of me for the rest of her goddamn life for what she’d done to others and to me.

Which made the fact that the bitch was at my door, with a cup of chicken soup, pretty goddamn upsetting. She knocked, “Eli? I trust you’re at home, I hate to think you went out while sick.”

Fuck.

I quickly messed up my bed and took off the suit I’d put on as prep for a trip out into the world, made myself look like I was recovering and opened the door. “Frannie? What are you doing here?” I didn’t let her in, standing in the doorway, watching her wince at the nickname, which was the only bit of power I had.

She pushed past me, “I brought you chicken soup, to help you feel better.”

I glanced at her. “Thanks. Put it in the kitchen,” I waved to the tiny nook that was the kitchen in my apartment.

She nodded. “Don’t think I’ll be domestic,” she said, but taking it over to the kitchen. Her heavy purse had bottles in it, I could hear them clinking together when she dropped it on the table. “But since you’re sick…” +5 SP (Frannie: -12)

I snuck a look in the bag and saw her phone, a couple of bottles of cheap **** and a truly massive strapon that my brain automatically superimposed on an image of Frannie as she prepared to use it on someone…on me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. That might just be her usual gear for going out into the world, but I wasn’t taking anything at face value at this point.

“Where are your bowls?” I heard from the other room.

“Cabinet above the sink,” I answered, though there wasn’t room for them to be anywhere else…she was doing the same sort of thing I did, having people do stuff that was obvious, or they already would, to reassert her dominance. “I’m not really hungry,” I tried to demur, which she should have been fine with, as without food, I’d get drunker faster.

But instead, she pushed back, extolling the virtues of the soup and how everyone who was sick needed it. The best I could do was tell her to heat it up and gain another +3 SP (Frannie: -9). Could she have spiked it? I thought I’d been being paranoid about the drugging, from her stories she used **** and ****…but those would be the stories she told, given her personality.

And…fuck me, she wasn’t an alcoholic, she was a predator and **** was just one tool she was using. She **** me, rapes me, records enough, maybe uses the bottles to convince me we just got drunk and I’d asked for it…then hold the pictures over me?

Wait, if that was the case, I was fine. I knew enough about **** to know not everyone reacted the same way, if I just didn’t react, she should believe it just didn’t work on me.

Or she’d figure that I had powers…which wouldn’t be good for me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what to do?